


Anticipation

by bornforwar_archivist



Series: The First Cut Is The Deepest Series [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2018-10-03 19:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10255709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornforwar_archivist/pseuds/bornforwar_archivist
Summary: by Kathryn AdkinsSequel to "The First Cut is the Deepest." Buffy's POV... Buffy thinks about her future with Spike on the flight to LA.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Delenn, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Born For War](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Born_For_War), which closed in 2015. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in March 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Born For War collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bornforwar).
> 
> \--
> 
> Rating: PG-13 (language) 
> 
> Summary: S/B, (PG-13) Sequel to "The First Cut is the Deepest." Buffy's POV... Buffy thinks about her future with Spike on the flight to LA. 
> 
> Archive: Please and thankyou. Just let me know.
> 
> Author's Note: Song clip is "Anticipation" by Carly Simon... yes, the song they use in the ketchup commercial. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Joss and Mutant Enemy, etc. own BtVS. No infringement intended.

When the stewardess made her first round with the drinks, I figured one of those cute little cans of Diet Coke and a cute little bottle of Bacardi would help me to relax. Hey, it was gonna be a 13 hour flight. May as well get comfy and make with the happys, right? Hmmm... seems these cute little bottles aren't as harmless as they look. Especially when the airline food is fairly unappetizing and the bottles are free. I've got five lined up on my tray which is definately not in the locked and upright position. And I've gotta tell ya, I myself am having a problem right now with the whole upright thing.   
  
I've got to hand it to Andrew. He had me packed and taxiing down the runway at lightning speed. And still, I managed to sneak into the desk drawer and filcher that Spuffy CD he'd made. I was dying to know what he'd put on this documentation of my life with Spike. Or, his take on it anyway. I cried my mascara off the first time I listened to it all the way through. The second time, I'd managed to cry so hard that I had to take an antihistimine to unclog my nose. Now... I'm just sitting here sipping at my sixth and, I promise, final little bottle of Bacardi. Probably not the best idea, but I can so totally see how Spike knocks down that stinky brown stuff now. It makes thinking hurt a little less. And after the first bottle or two, my taste buds had pretty much burned off. Made the stuff more or less like water down my throat after that.   
  
We can never know about the days to come   
  
But we think about them anyway   
  
And I wonder if I'm really with you now   
  
Or just chasing after some finer day.   
  
I have to admit. Andrew, for all his faults, is one insightful little son-of-a-bitch. Really. He pretty much created the soundtrack of my life. All I've been thinking about is what my future holds. And, damn him, but I want it to hold Spike.   
  
Andrew insisted that Spike still loved me.   
  
"Did he actually say those words?" I asked.   
  
"Well, not so much but--"   
  
"Then he might not," I pouted. Well, it was true. He might not.   
  
"Buffy," Andrew had said, crossing his arms across his chest. I swear, the boy has a better resolve face than Willow. "Some things are just known."   
  
If it weren't for Dawn, I'm not 100 per cent positive that I wouldn't have asked him to come with me to LA. I'm just so scared of how this is all going to go down when I get there alone. And I also figured Andrew would keep me from staking both of my former demon lovers. Hey, I'm only human. And I'm not totally with the secret clubhouse scenario that the idiot undead were part of.   
  
Anticipation, anticipation   
  
Is making me late   
  
Is keeping me waiting   
  
Andrew had no idea how long Spike had been back. He had no idea how it had happened. I had about a dozen different major motion pictures brewing in my mind. Shanshu had been one of them, but that was quickly dispelled because I remembered that Andrew had said undead. Then there was the one where he was a vampire angel. Yeah. All fangs and wings. He'd be like John Travolta in that movie Michael. Only he'd smell of leather, nicotine and whiskey when he was in heat. Not cookies. Shit! Just thinking about that special Spike signature was throwing me into heat. My very own dirty, little angel. Euw. No! Not angel. Scrap that idea.   
  
I can't believe what a nervous wreck I am. I wonder if Andrew called them? He promised that he wouldn't. Of course, he promised Spike that he wouldn't tell me that he was back from the ashes, too. Andrew and secrets? Very unmixy. And never the best choice to be anyone's secret squirrel. BUT... he's also majorly scared of me. So, definate brownie points in my favor. Yay, me! Maybe I should have let him call... mmm... no. Give them time to get their stories straight? I think not.   
  
And I tell you how easy it is to be with you   
  
And how right your arms feel around me   
  
Something that I found out after being with a vampire the first time is that there's absolutely nothing like it. I mean, they don't sweat. And human boys? Just thinking about them gives me the major wiggins! Yeah, Angel was a one-shot deal. But Spike... he always felt wonderful. Even when I was cold I got such a thrill at the way his body would steal heat from mine. Sharing heat is a very intimate act. Body parts, just about all of them, must be touching. And, yeah. I would get all freaked out about the whole intimacy and touching. Especially when he became Mr. Smoochie-Woochie-Love-You-More-Than-My-Unlife... and I'd run. Run fast. Run far. Run with my fucking tail tucked between my legs. Who's the one with the real issues here? Yeah. My name is Buffy and I'm an alcoholic... well, you get the idea, right? I'm definately the poster child for 12 step groups.   
  
Bit I rehearsed... those words just late last night   
  
When I was thinking about how right tonight might be...   
  
Would it? You know, be right? How many times had I sat in my room and rehearsed what I would say to him if I ever saw him again? Okay, him being all undead flesh and borrowed blood and not telling me about it? That never factored into the equation. But I'm a crafty kind of gal. I can improvise.   
  
"Please return your trays to the upright position and fasten your seatbelts. We will be landing at Los Angeles International Airport in approximately 15 minutes. International travellers, the current time is 7:42 PM."   
  
Fifteen minutes? FIFTEEN minutes? What happened to thirteen hours to prepare my speech? What happened to knowing exactly what I was going to say? What happened to my little bottles of Bacardi? I look down in my lap. I still have a little bottle resting beneath my portable CD player. And I think I'm gonna need it.   
  
Anticipation, anticipation...   
  


The End


End file.
